


Warm Embers

by RedRosesandMarigolds



Series: Warm Embers [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Family, Fluff, Humour, Political, Romance, Slice of Life, Wee Bit of Everything Really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21715894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRosesandMarigolds/pseuds/RedRosesandMarigolds
Summary: A month after the war, the Gaang and their friends have returned to their separate lives and must find new purposes in a shattered world. Each one of them builds a new life, but as the years go by, they face pressure, distrust, and danger in a world where they cannot hide.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Series: Warm Embers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565179
Kudos: 33





	1. The End of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on AO3, originally posted to ff.net. It's going to be a long one, so fasten your seatbelts. I'll do my best to stick with it, but updates are slow, so don't expect one every week. I hope you enjoy this story, and you become as invested as I am. Another important thing is that it ignores the comics and Legend of Korra. Quick warning: this story, and this chapter, contains ableist language. Finally, I don't own Avatar. Enjoy.

The first attempt on Zuko's life came right out of nowhere.

It was merely a month into the new Fire Lord's reign, and there were still whispers of discontent. The indoctrination programme in the schools had been stopped abruptly - a replacement was still being planned - but there was no way of un-indoctrinating those who had already left, and still most of the population hated the fact that the useless, weakling, banished prince had come back to take over the country with his fanatical, radical ideas, and pulled the plug on their Great March of Civilisation. How exactly, the people demanded, were the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes supposed to be enlightened if there were no soldiers or tanks marching through their streets in an impressive display of the power they were missing out on? How was the Fire Nation supposed to prove its status as the only worthy country if reparations were being paid out daily to the other leading powers and the Fire Lord was demonstrating the nation's "penance"? How were their children supposed to learn pride, in themselves and in their country, if they were constantly told that they were equal to all the other vermin in the world? The thoughts were rife throughout the kingdom, but the whisperers, not used to the new free speech laws, kept them behind closed doors, under hands, from person to person rather than group to group, no-one trusting a stranger, so that plain-clothes guards sent out to gauge the temperature on the streets found nothing, and came back with reports of a people that, though grudging, were growing contentedly accustomed to the new régime. Thus, the opinion at the palace was that Zuko was doing well, and they had no real reason to worry.

Until one impressionable young man broke down the door to the Fire Lord's chamber, where the young ruler - still a boy, really - slept peacefully, arms wrapped tightly around his girlfriend.

It was Mai who woke first. She had her back to the door, but she rolled over with consummate grace and leapt out of bed. She did not sleep with knives on her body, but it took her a mere second to grab the knife belt from her bedside table and launch a round at the assassin, who gave one wild, desperate lunge out of the way, and then managed to stagger to his feet. Pulling his hidden blade from its sheath in his cloak, he decided to abandon the girl and just go for the Fire Lord. He made another wild dive towards the bed, only to be met with a hard foot impacting his head and sending him flying into the wall with a bang that finally jolted the groggy Fire Lord to full awareness.

Hiroshi, the assassin, suddenly found himself dodging a furious volley of fireballs. One here, one there, one nearly impacting his left shoulder, one narrowly missing his right ear. And still the knives came from the girl; now if only he could get near enough without dying horribly. He lunged for the Fire Lord, only to find the girl blocking his path. Fine then, cut her down, then go for her boyfriend - she was too much of a threat. He lunged at her, knife outstretched, but the Fire Lord had caught his movement and sent a wave of fire towards his head, and he had to duck again, mission aborted.

He tried to go at her from a different angle, but she was there waiting for him, all knives and deadly coldness. She grabbed his outstretched arm and knocked the knife from his grasp, sending it flying into the wall. Without his weapon, Hiroshi wavered. He could duck out now, run for the hills and come back another night, but then he thought about the gentleman who had paid him up – he expected to put his plan into action _tonight_ , and that wouldn’t happen with the current Fire Lord still alive and well.

Hiroshi’s next idea was to wrestle the girl into submission. He took in her build – tall and lanky, not much muscle at all – and decided it was doable. He lunged for her, dodging the furious volley of knives that came his way, and grabbed her skinny arms. He did not expect to meet with much resistance, but she was surprisingly strong – how old was she anyway? She couldn’t be older than twenty, and at close quarters, Hiroshi decided that she didn’t even look more than sixteen. He reached past her arm and grabbed her waist, struggling to find purchase in the smooth silk of her nightgown – while he could barely afford wool to clothe his Mamma and younger siblings! – but the Fire Lord grabbed his own waist and tried to prise the assassin from his girlfriend.

Hiroshi was swiftly losing heart, but he managed to hold on to the girl as the younger but evidently stronger boy pulled him this way and that. After a while, Hiroshi realised that the Fire Lord was holding back, for fear of hurting his girlfriend. Using this to his advantage, Hiroshi managed to pull the girl towards him, her bare feet sliding easily on the polished wooden floor, and give a hefty kick to her unprotected stomach, sending her flying with a startled cry. She hit the wardrobe, a hulking monstrosity carved with red-stained dragons, and crumpled to the floor, clutching her abdomen.

Hiroshi celebrated – _finally_ out of the way – but only when he heard the bellow of rage behind him did he realise that he had let his guard down, and it had cost him the few precious seconds it took to spin around and block the fireball thrown at his head by his remaining opponent. He was forced to duck it instead, and he felt the searing heat on his face.

That was the final straw. Hiroshi gave the Fire Lord the strongest shove he could, ducked under his arm in the split-second it took him to regain his balance, and ran for the door. He kept going, past the guards he had drugged – for he was better at sneaking than at fighting – down the corridor towards the stairs that separated the floor given over completely to the Fire Lord’s chambers from the rest of the palace (which was empty apart from those servants who lived there) and had almost got there before he ran smack into two guards who blossomed at the top of the stairs seemingly from nowhere, in the perfect position to grab an arm each and, with a threatening “Where do you think _you’re_ going?”, tow him back to the Fire Lord’s chambers, where they found the boy crouching beside the wardrobe, checking that his girlfriend remained mostly unharmed.

“We heard a commotion, my Lord.” The two guards that held Hiroshi ducked their heads respectfully, and the six that had followed – who a terrified Hiroshi had been staring in the face for what seemed like forever – performed the proper Fire Nation bow. Hiroshi thought that it would probably be difficult to do a full bow, noses to the floor, in their armour. “We have the assassin,” the guard who had spoken added unnecessarily.

“Yes.” Zuko stood up, trying to feel dignified with his hair a shaggy mess and wearing nothing but pyjamas. He was also too tired to think of anything Fire Lordly to say, so all he could come up with was, “I can see that.”

“Shall we take him to the prison block, my Lord?” The guard performed another little bow, and Hiroshi felt himself slide along the floor.

“Er, yes,” Zuko said without thinking. “Isn’t that where criminals normally go?” He saw the guard’s eyebrows shoot up, and he could practically _feel_ Mai rolling her eyes behind him. He finally recovered himself. “You can interrogate him in the morning. In the meantime, secure the palace. Make sure there isn’t someone else ready to step in if this guy gets caught.”

“Right away, sir.” And Hiroshi was dragged away. He was still facing the opposite way to the guards holding him, and so he found himself staring into the Fire Lord’s chamber as the owner of the room helped his girlfriend to her feet and pulled her into his arms. There was no trace of the fierce warrior who had fought so valiantly, only a relieved lover, happy in her boyfriend’s safety, as she wrapped her arms around the Fire Lord’s waist, a kind of tenderness as she tucked her dark head under his chin. Hiroshi felt wretched. He was no longer a bringer of justice, bravely risking his life to remove an oppressor and restore the justice and order of the Great March of Civilisation to the Fire Nation. He was a monster, come to murder a boy younger than him, further from his majority than Hiroshi himself, and break up this cosy couple, staining the room with her blood too if necessary. He had attacked and would have killed a lady. Mamma would be ashamed. And now he would never see her or his three younger siblings again.

“Spirits, Mai, are you OK?” Left alone now, Zuko addressed his girlfriend. Mai raised her head from his chest and met his eyes, concern written softly in her own.

“I’m fine. Just a bit of a shock. How are you doing?”

“OK, but…where did that come from? I thought the people were happy!”

“It only takes one guy to pay off an assassin, Zuko,” Mai reminded him. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep. You’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.” She led him back to the bed and pulled him under the sheets. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mai. I’m glad you’re safe.” Zuko kissed his girlfriend, then pulled her back against him. It wasn’t long before he heard her breathing slow, but hours later, one hand rhythmically stroking her soft ebony hair, he watched the sun tint the black sky golden.

* * *

Ty Lee loved mornings on Kyoshi Island. Summer was slowly giving way to autumn, and the clear, crisp morning breeze floated through the window as she threw open the shutters, propping them open with the wooden poles intended for that purpose, causing the warrior in the other bed, Niu, a pleasant-faced girl of fifteen, to moan groggily and rub her eyes.

“Ty…a couple more minutes, please.”

Ty Lee checked the candle that had been kept burning all night, saw that it was a quarter past seven, and tutted. “Come on! Breakfast is in fifteen minutes, and then training – it’ll be _three hours_ before you can get something to eat!” The older girl’s attitude to mornings reminded her a lot of Mai, and she felt a brief pang of homesickness before she shrugged on her robe and went outside to fill the little basin with water so that she and her roommate could wash.

It was such a simple life, so _provincial_ , so different from both the “anything goes” atmosphere of the circus and the strictness of the Fire Nation nobility. Ty Lee was as flexible with life as she was with her body, and she had settled in well among her _super_ new friends, but there were times when she missed the old way. Mai was the one she missed the most, and part of her wished that she could have persuaded her oldest friend to join the Kyoshi Warriors too, although she knew that that was unrealistic. Mai had not taken to the warriors, and she disliked the Earth Kingdom. Besides, Ty Lee would not begrudge the girl her new-found happiness with Zuko, so the weekly letters from Zuko (addressed not only to her, but to Sokka and Suki as well), with Mai’s occasional input, had to suffice.

Azula was a greyer area. The other warriors said that Azula had been evil, and after what had happened at the Boiling Rock, she was going to believe them, and of course it was liberating not being under Azula’s thumb any more, but sometimes, Suki would give an instruction, sure and confident, but kind and non-threatening, and Ty Lee would feel a strange tightening in her chest as she rushed to follow it – almost as if she missed the girl. Her feelings towards Azula were complicated, and Ty Lee had never been very good at identifying her emotions or thoughts – much easier to just stick on a big grin and feel happy. Her betrayal of Azula at the Boiling Rock had been a necessary action to save Mai, and not intended to mean that she no longer liked the princess. Sometimes, Azula had done something, or said something, that made Ty Lee twist up inside, not unpleasantly, and feel a little confused…

Ty Lee realised that she was wool-gathering, and that her basin was overflowing. She carried it back to her room, where Niu, fully awake now, waited for her. It had been Niu who had, in that miserable, dank prison near the palace, noticed Ty Lee’s loneliness, and prompted her fellow warriors to offer her company. Yes. That was better. Live in the now. Azula was the past.

Ty Lee enjoyed training immensely. It was the third hour of training that she enjoyed the most. This was the hour given over to chi-blocking lessons, the time when Suki would step aside and let Ty Lee take the lead. It was nice to feel an expert for once, not being put down and told that she was stupid. In fact, Ty Lee could do something that these girls couldn’t! That just made her day so much brighter, almost as if there were _two_ suns in the sky! And they were making such progress, too!

But, inevitably, her daily hour to shine came to an end and the other seven warriors helped each other to their feet, rubbing sore limbs and talking about cups of tea. As they headed towards the door, it opened, as it did every day, to reveal a brown-skinned boy in blue. The warriors all crowded around Sokka, chatting happily, grinning as he greeted each of them in turn and giggling as he addressed Ai as Xue (he was still learning to recognise them all with the face paint). It wasn’t long before Suki pushed through the group to kiss and be kissed by her boyfriend. Ty Lee grinned. They really were a cute couple, and at times like this they reminded her of Mai and Zuko. It was these thoughts that helped her accept that Sokka would never consider a relationship with her, and now that he was a person in her life as opposed to a concept, she could feel her crush on him, never much more than an appreciation of his looks, fading more and more each day.

“How are you doing, Ty Lee?” he asked her, one arm still around Suki, and she grinned and sat down with the couple for a proper chat.

“I’m doing great!” she beamed. “The warriors are so super-amazing!”

“That’s good to know,” Suki replied with a smile, and as they settled down for a long, thorough confab, Ty Lee couldn’t help but feel that she had found her _true_ calling.

* * *

“I brought you breakfast.”

Aang brought his early-morning meditation session to an end as Katara approached him with a tray. It always helped clear his mind of the last dregs of sleep, shaking the vines’ hold upon his consciousness and leaving him ready to face the day. It also helped him stay positive and reflect on all the good things in his life: his friends, his home at the (eerily quiet) Southern Air Temple, the generous amount of fan-mail he received, and of course, the gem of the collection, his month-old relationship with Katara. She was a blessing in his life, contrary to many of the monks’ teachings about human attachment, but none the less sweet for it. Still too young to be thinking about his future, and with a girl too patient and understanding to rush him, his relationship with Katara was based on fun and games, kindness and empathy, a gentle hand always there to guide him and soothe him when he felt lost.

“Thanks, Katara. Good morning.”

“Morning, Aang. The post is here – two letters and something that looks like it’s from that guy in Ba Sing Se we saw a couple weeks ago.” Katara reached into her tunic and procured the said letters. After the war, it had dawned on Aang that, with the Fire Nation working hard to re-establish peaceful communications with the other nations, he had no idea what “keeping balance” might entail. After speaking to many of his past lives, he had come to the conclusion that each Avatar had their own methods, depending on what suited the time best, and so he offered himself as a kind of charity worker, flitting about the globe, using the Southern Air Temple as his base of operations, answering pleas for help and visiting war-torn locations – none too large or too remote – to help them rebuild and adjust.

Opening the letters, he found one from a small village in the Earth Kingdom, and the other from a larger town in the outermost reaches of the Fire Nation. Both wanted to settle disputes, and the Fire Nation letter had a complaint about the reparations. Aang frowned as he bit into a peach. Although he did his best to keep smiling, it was truly a crushing amount of work, and he realised that neither piece of business could be solved via letter. “I’ll get Appa’s saddle – we need to head out to the Earth Kingdom,” he sighed. Katara gave him an understanding, encouraging smile, and he in turn smiled back, a weaker smile than his usual grin, but still one that conveyed gratitude and love. Katara leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek, then another on his lips. He put his arms around her, and she did likewise, tightening their embrace. At length, they broke apart, and Aang, his enthusiasm restored, grinned properly. “Good morning, Katara!”

His girlfriend watched him air-scooter away.

* * *

“Good morning, Akemi. Looking forward to meeting your new patient?” Doctor Fukui, Head Doctor of the Kitasaki Mental Facility not far from the Capital, looked up from his work – his office being located near the staff entrance, with the door often open – and greeted one of his hardest workers. She was one of the only doctors he could trust with perhaps their most difficult patient yet, and with her personality, he was sure that the two would mould together beautifully in time.

“Of course, Doctor,” Akemi beamed at him. “However long it takes, I’m certain she’ll make a full recovery. After all, it speaks volumes for the quality of treatment at our hospital that the _Fire Lord_ himself trusts us with the care of his own sister!”

“Always glad of the enthusiasm, Akemi.” Doctor Fukui checked the time. “I’ll take you along to meet her now. She’s usually awake by now – practising her Firebending, the poor thing.”

He led her along a variety of corridors through the circular tower, to one of the rooms where a newer patient resided. As predicted, they could hear the sounds of Firebending. Fukui knocked on the door.

“Could we come in please, Azula?”

There was just enough of a pause to convey Azula’s contempt, then the door opened a fraction of an inch. It had taken Azula a while to realise that, however long she waited, no-one was going to open the door for her. Neither were they going to go away. Fukui pushed the door open further and entered, gesturing for Akemi to follow.

They stood in a small room, comfortably furnished but with no hint of cosiness. It was customary for patients to decorate their rooms – Fukui was always very insistent that these were not cells – by buying or painting pictures, but Azula had always insisted that until any of the painters that the royal family usually patronised could be reached for a commission, she would wait rather than sully her room with work from a lesser artist. The walls were painted white, and the curved one was dominated by a window looking out onto a large, beautifully-kept garden. There was a small desk, well-stocked with paper, ink, and brushes, and the bed was made with soft red sheets – not the silk and ostrich-swan down that Azula was used to, but still a comfortable night’s sleep. There was a little cupboard, a dressing-table, and two chairs for visiting, and in one of these sat a teenage girl. Her messy black hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, the shorn bits of hair that had once framed her face gone, cut off upon arrival. Her eyes glinted, her mouth, free of lip-paint, was pulled up into an arrogant smirk, her head tilted appraisingly to one side. She wore exactly the same uniform as everybody else, a pink and red tunic and loose trousers, but there was an added royalty to the way she sat, the cross of her legs and the way her bare arms rested on the arms of the chair. She took Akemi in with a haughtiness that belied her age, before she spoke with a confidence that blatantly ignored her situation.

“You must be the new psychiatrist. Bow, both of you. Noses to the floor.” She turned to Akemi once more. “In case you haven’t been told, I’m the Fire Lord. Fire Lord Azula.” Her face lit up when she said it, glowing with the radiance of a monarch smiling upon favoured subjects.

“Good morning, Azula.” Fukui’s voice was light and cheerful. Akemi could tell this wasn’t the first time she had demanded the respect that was her brother’s by right. “I heard you Firebending.”

Azula sighed and shook her head. It was quite clear to Akemi that she thought Fukui was dense beyond measure.

“I’m going to leave you with Akemi now,” Fukui told the girl gently. “I have other patients to attend to. Akemi, you know what to do. If you need me, just shout.”

“Thanks, Doctor.” Left alone with Azula, Akemi turned to the young girl. “So…how are you doing, Azula?”

“You peasants really _are_ stupid. I’m doing terribly, but I’m pushing through. We royals have to be made from sterner stuff than the usual riff-raff, and, as the Fire Lord, I have to be the strongest of all.” Azula rose from the chair, walking over to her new psychiatrist and attempting to stare her down. This was not terribly successful as Akemi was a head taller.

“So you practice your Firebending every day?”

Azula rolled her eyes. “Of course. The Fire Lord’s bending has to be the strongest in the nation. Besides,” she leaned forwards conspiratorially, “I have to be ready for when they come for me.”

“Who are _they_ , Azula?”

Azula sighed irritably, but then her face grew dark. “Why my brother, the Avatar, that Waterbending peasant, my father and mother, and Mai and Ty Lee.” She waved a hand airily. “They hate me. They’re all working together to bring me down.”

“Azula.” Akemi put her hands firmly on Azula’s shoulders. “No-one’s coming for you. We’re all here to help. We want to talk to you.” Something in Azula’s demeanour made her heart wrench. The poor girl had been abused to the point of snapping. That was what made Akemi want to work for people with mental illnesses. She wanted, more than anything, to give Azula the bright future every girl deserved.

“Get your hands off the Fire Lord!” Azula’s eyes flared and blue flames sparked at her fingertips. “GUARDS!” No guards came. “No matter.” Azula seemed to have forgotten her request at once as Akemi let her go. “I have the power to have them all put to death anyway.” She sighed almost longingly. “Have them taken away, and then they’ll never bother me again. Just you wait, Ami or whatever your name is. Soon enough, I’ll have consolidated my power, and then no-one will dare to question me!”

She took a Firebending stance, and the fireplace and torches roared to life with blue flames. Akemi took a step backwards. In a heartbeat, she saw not a scared little girl, but a cruel and calculating conqueror. She hoped she could get through to Azula before she seriously hurt herself.

* * *

“Dinner. Now.”

Zuko looked up and grinned when he heard his girlfriend’s familiar rasp. “Mai!”

“You look like you could use a break.” Mai came fully into the room and hugged Zuko from behind his chair, pulling his topknot out and running calloused fingers through his soft, downy hair. Zuko felt relaxed at once and turned around to smile at her, and Mai came round to stand beside him, leaning down for a kiss, soft and loving.

“Thanks, Mai.” Zuko smiled as soon as they broke apart. “You always know how to make me feel better.” He gestured behind her to all the papers littering his desk. “There’s so much work – I don’t know where to start sometimes. I’ve been drowning in it all day.”

Mai kissed him again and Zuko savoured it, her mouth warm against his. They enjoyed a casual intimacy, learning every day how to better understand each other, knowing now that they had the luxury of all the time in the world, for they were the victors, and no-one could order them away from each other again.

“Come on. Let’s get some food. It’ll get cold and go lumpy.” Mai got up and tugged her boyfriend with her, Zuko enjoying the familiar feel of her hand, soft skin, slender fingers peppered with callouses and tiny scars, the tough leather of her gloves. Zuko loved that. No-one else felt it when they took their beloved’s hand.

They went together to the smallest dining room, where a table was set for two, food quietly steaming away its heat on ornate red platters. Despite the supply of biscuits and fire gummies that only Mai knew filled one desk drawer, Zuko was hungry, and the pork-chicken and steamed noodles looked like heaven. The two knelt on cushions on opposite sides of the table and began to eat.

The meal passed in silence for a few minutes, before Mai asked, “So…what were you working on?”

Zuko sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Some reports of conflicts in the colonies, bills – _urgh_ , bills – some peace treaty suggestions, and other crap like that. Oh, and a report on that guy who tried to do us in last night.”

“Oh.” Mai took out one of her favourite blades and spun it casually. “Him. Anything?”

“He squealed like a stuck piglet-lamb, but he never saw any faces. So I had to read this long report telling me absolutely _fucking_ nothing.”

Mai sighed, seeing the distress in her boyfriend’s eyes, and reached for his hand. “You’ll get used to the workload, Zuko. And you know I’m here to help if you ever need it.” She smiled encouragingly, her wide lips twitching upwards. Zuko grinned back, squeezing her fingers in thanks.

“You’re incredible, Mai. Are you staying over tonight?”

“Yes. My family are coming back in a couple of days, and I want to make the most of my time alone with you.” She flashed him a smile, and he nodded, his own smile growing wider. Mai really seemed to have given up all pretences. He wasn’t entirely sure what prison had done to her, but the girl who sat opposite him was not the girl he had lain on the sofa with and kissed, prior to his joining Aang. While she hadn’t been shy for a long time, now she never hesitated to say what was on her mind, and she seemed to be motivated only by fun. He wouldn’t put it past this new Mai to throw the fine porcelain dishes onto the floor, solely for the excitement of watching them break. The thought amused him and he grinned even more broadly, squeezed her hand again, and quashed the urge to laugh.

“What are you going to do when they do return?”

“Spend as much time over here as I can get away with. I don’t really care what assumptions people make about us.” Mai smiled, and dug into her meat in earnest. “Besides, you need me. And I care about you.”

Zuko smiled back at her, taking in every stunning detail of her beauty. He had long since worked out what “care about” was a euphemism for, and the thought made warmth begin in the depths of his heart and spread outwards, heating all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. When he looked up, he saw amusement dancing on his girlfriend’s features.

“Quit staring and eat your spirits-damned noodles. I want seconds and I’m not leaving any for you, so hurry up and take what you want before I eat it all.”

Zuko began to pile noodles into his mouth, allowing himself to dwell on her words, on her complete lack of reverence for him. He loved having someone so close, someone who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind to him, someone who protected and cared for him. He in turn tried to care for her, remembering his promises at the Boiling Rock, alone in that cell, of a brighter world for her and for the child they would have one day, an only, free from siblings to compete with and be ignored in favour of. He let his thoughts drift from his girlfriend to the assassin, there to upset his plans. Thank the spirits Mai had been there. The full implications of the attack disquieted him. There were discontents in the Fire Nation. How many wanted him gone? How many times would he and Mai have to fight for their lives? It marked, for sure, the ending of peace and the Fire Lord’s state of blissful innocence. He looked up once more, and saw Mai smirking at him.

“Staring _again_! That does it – I’m taking all the pork-chicken. Enjoy your plain noodles, _Fire Lord_.”

* * *


	2. Love and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai's family return to the Capital, and Zuko meets Tom-Tom. Ty Lee misses Azula, but Azula is still bitter. Akemi tries to learn more about Azula.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the second chapter. Thank you to everyone who left Kudos. Again this chapter contains ableist language, and again, I don't own Avatar.

Two days later, a letter wound up on Zuko’s desk. It was a rather short letter (at least compared to the novels he usually received) and it stated that the City of Omashu had been officially handed back to King Bumi, the proper papers all written and signed and all governing affairs neatly sorted, and the former governor and his wife and son were now on their way home.

His response to this was to head upstairs, back to his bedroom, to where the former governor’s daughter still lay tucked under the sheets, a study in black and white, only the dull grey-gold of her eyes, as they opened at his touch, to break the pattern.

“Hey,” was her sleepy response to his hand on her shoulder. She sat up, her hair covering her like a cape, brushing her fringe out of her eyes and shaking her head groggily. “Urgh. What time is it?”

Zuko checked the candle. “Nearly half past nine.”

“Urgh,” she said again, lying back down and pulling the covers over herself. She opened her eyes, however, as a thought occurred to her. “Any reason for coming up here?”

“Apart from coming to say hi? Yeah, as a matter of fact. Omashu’s been handed back. So your dad should be home soon.”

Mai sat up again and sighed, her breath tumbling out like a waterfall. “My family. Whoopee. You can see them again, meet my little brother.”

“You know you can always move in permanently.” Zuko sat down on the bed and kissed his girlfriend, deep and tender, one arm wrapping around her waist as the other smoothed her tousled hair. “My offer still stands.”

“Good to know. I think I’ll need it.” She was glad of his pronouncement. Part of her had worried that he would withdraw the proposal, made safely ensconced in her embrace before his coronation, that he would think twice once the passion, their muted kind of passion, of their reunion had faded away. She heaved another of her own special sighs, beautifully expiring, somehow, in her own unique way, making a slow, lifelong death look like an art form; eventually hauling herself out of bed, smoothing down her painted silk nightgown, and Zuko focused on the dragons coiling around the edge of the rug, so that she wouldn’t snark at him for staring again.

Mai headed off to bathe, taking full advantage of the bathroom designated to the Fire Lord, the mid-morning light splashing off pink and white marble, warmth streaming in through the window. She stretched, yawning, and went to fill the bathtub from a large water tank somewhere in the ceiling (the Fire Nation having developed a crude kind of plumbing), adding a generous amount of rose-scented bath-salts from a jar.

She took a long time over her bath, as she so often did, letting the hot water soak into her muscles and relax her, perpetuating the illusion that she could go back to sleep, allowing her thoughts to drift. She habitually thought about light, pleasant things in this time – Zuko, the book she was currently reading (which would make the fine ladies in her mother’s circle keel over from shock and disgust), her training – but today, her thoughts turned to her family. Her relationship with her mother had never been a good one, and she was quite sure that her father had forgotten her name for a while after her brother was born. Tom-Tom (or Tomohiro, as Mai stubbornly called him) was a curse in himself, always toddling into her room as she was trying to sit quietly, reading, or even just thinking about Zuko, something she had done daily as a matter of routine during his banishment, giggling that nauseating giggle, making her sit and listen either to his half-intelligible ramblings or to the cooing of her mother’s friends as they remarked once more what a perfect little boy he was (and how he quite made up for that…ahem… _aberration_ that was his older sister). Mai sighed and closed her eyes, trying to pinpoint what else it was that was bothering her so much.

Eventually, she found it. _Freedom_. It was the loss of her freedom. Once she had grown accustomed to the Boiling Rock, the dank cell, the daily clean-up duty on the gondola launch platform, supervised by guards who taunted her regularly about her fall from grace and her love for the traitor prince, the daily interrogations as to why she did what she did and whether or not she was plotting with the prince, and the crap food, she had begun to feel a great sense of _freedom_. She had hit the lowest of the low. There were no behavioural standards in prison. She had deserted Azula, and the princess would have no orders for her any more. She had already angered her mother, and so what would be a little more scandalous behaviour behind closed doors? She supposed that it had simply been building on the freedom she had already gained, sent home with Azula and Zuko with her parents still in Omashu, with only a short note telling her to remember her station and behave herself to guide her. Her wide lips curved up in a smile as she remembered how a slip of her hand had so _tragically_ knocked the note into the fire, smirking at Zuko as she led him to her room, snuggling up with him on her favourite sofa. Merely hours later, they had been lying together in her bed, arms around each other, cosy in nightclothes and talking and laughing like children and so, _so_ happy. Mai’s smile grew even wider as she remembered Zuko’s moments of carefree joy, those stolen seconds when she thought everything had returned to normal.

She sighed deeply (for when had she ever sighed any other way?) as she thought of her mother watching her like an eagle-hawk as she darted to and from the palace, constantly having to keep one eye on the time, making sure she wasn’t dusty or sweaty from training. Perhaps she should invest in some perfume. She recalled the previous night, curling up together in each other’s arms and falling asleep against his chest. She wondered how she was going to manage that in the future. She hadn’t had much in the way of physical affection at all in her life and touch was so important to them, since they were both so bad with their words – it was one of Mai’s greatest regrets that every time she tried to tell her long-time boyfriend that she _loved_ him, something inside her froze, and she wound up saying something else instead, something ridiculous: that she cared about him, that she actually kind of liked him, that she _didn’t hate him_ , and yet she had told Azula without a flinch. So instead she had tried to show him, mostly through touch, through kissing, through snuggling on the sofa and holding him in her arms, and she could only hope her message got through. The relationship was her sustenance, what made her dreary life worth living, the thing that made her look forward to the next day and prevent her from turning into the lifeless doll her parents wanted, empty eyes and empty soul, not showing any emotion but not feeling any either, going under and being swallowed by a morass of pointlessness. His banishment had been the worst three years of her young life, and she was desperate not to lose him again, not to have to part with the warmth his embrace filled her with, radiating through her from every point of contact. She was determined to find a way to defy her mother and continue with her relationship as she wanted it.

She came out of her reverie when she realised that her bathwater was freezing cold. She needed some kind of self-heating bathtub. Perhaps she could get some kind of commission for one, now she was dating the Fire Lord. She laughed to herself as she climbed out and wrapped herself up in a fluffy white and gold towel. Time to get in some morning training – something that always helped clear her head, both of sleep and of stress – before the morning became the afternoon.

* * *

Niu snored. Ty Lee had discovered this on her first night with the warriors. She didn’t mind. Her sister Sakurako had snored, and she had shared a room with her on a few holidays with her family. Besides, Niu always took a while to drop off and Ty Lee was the kind of person who always fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow, so she rarely heard it anyway. But not tonight.

For tonight, it was raining. It wasn’t that Ty Lee was especially bothered by rain. It was simply that it brought back memories. When she had travelled with Azula and Mai, there had been no bunks in their tank train, forcing them to sleep on the ground outside. Azula had had a one-man tent, and Mai and Ty Lee had slept under the stars. Ty Lee had adored looking up at all the beautiful constellations before she closed her eyes, but Mai beside her had been unable to ignore the constant discomfort of that ever-present rock in her shoulder (or sometimes it had been her hip). But what she remembered the most was the nights it had rained.

Mai hadn’t minded getting wet too much, but Ty Lee loathed being cold. She would always pester Azula until she let her into her tent, and annoy her by calling it a “sleepover”. Ty Lee remembered fondly how different Azula was when she was tired, how her words lost their bite when she told Ty Lee to be quiet and go to sleep, how occasionally she’d laugh at one of Ty Lee’s jokes, and she wouldn’t seem like what the other warriors told Ty Lee she had been – a commander, a bully, an _abuser_ – but instead like a friend.

She definitely missed Azula, and now it hit her in the chest, a tight pain similar to the effort of not crying. She wasn’t sure if that wasn’t what it was, for crying would wake Niu, and then she would want to know what was wrong, and Ty Lee wasn’t sure how any of the warriors would take the news. So she lay awake, unable to do anything, unable to sleep without something for company, and unable to stomach the indignity of buying a teddy to help her, for she was a warrior now, and Niu would know that it wasn’t for her sister’s new baby, and she might tell the others.

She got up, wrapping her robe about her, and went over to the little writing-desk in the corner of the room. She lit a candle, then checked back at Niu. The older girl still slept soundly, and still snored.

 _Dear Azula,_ she wrote, then couldn’t for the life of her think what to write next. In the end, she decided upon just that. _I don’t know what to write, but I really wanted to send you a letter._ She decided that that sounded a bit too tearful, and so she took her candle over to the mirror and grinned at herself. It looked extremely put-on, and so she tried again, and again, and again, until she looked – and therefore felt – her usual self.

Heading back over to the desk, she sat down again and began to write in full flow: _Things are great here. I’ve made so many new friends, and Suki is the nicest person ever. I love watching the sunrise turn the skies all pink, and I can see it outside my room! I share it with a girl called Niu and she’s the same age as Mai, and she’s so motherly and nice. That’s Niu, of course, not Mai, I can’t imagine Mai ever being motherly! She’s really pretty, and her aura’s a nice gold, with lots of pink, too._ After about three paragraphs detailing everything she liked about Kyoshi Island, she wrote _I hope things are going as wonderfully for you, too._ As she read over the last sentence, she stopped abruptly, her train of thought juddering to a halt.

Azula was in a _mental hospital_. Of _course_ things weren’t going to be going as well for her! She was so insensitive! Without giving the ink time to dry, she scrumpled the paper up and buried her face in her hands. She would never be able to apologise to Azula and be friends again! The tears began to fall, and Ty Lee was too tired to stop them. It was only when a gentle hand rested on her shoulder that she realised the snoring had stopped.

“Hi, Niu,” she whispered.

“Ty Lee,” Niu’s voice had taken the same soft tone as it had when they were in prison, when she had been alone and vulnerable and unsure as to whether or not Mai had already been executed. “What are you writing? What’s wrong?”

Ty Lee froze. This was _exactly_ what she had been worried about! “It’s…nothing. Nothing. Just writing to my sister Misaki.”

“Is she ill or something?”

Ty Lee had never been one to think ahead, and failed to realise that would give her a decent reason to be caught crying. “…No.”

Niu’s eyes flicked to the piece of paper scrunched up on the desk. “Then why are you crying?”

“No reason. I just…miss her, that’s all!” Ty Lee tried to give Niu one of her trademark beams, but the smile she managed was a shadow of its usual self. She knew it was an unconvincing argument anyway. She hadn’t seen Misaki for nearly two years. Although, perhaps it was time for a visit.

“Come on, Ty Lee.” Niu took her arm and led her to her bed, where she sat her down and pulled her into a sisterly hug. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how.”

Snuggled against Niu, soothed by her tone and the older girl’s motherly nature, Ty Lee’s resolve, already weakened by her tiredness, broke. “I…I miss Azula.”

When Ty Lee checked Niu’s face, she saw that the older girl’s mouth had formed a very thin line. “Right. OK. Do you know why?”

“I’m not sure, I just…do.” Ty Lee replied. “I guess…I guess it might be because I was with her for so long. And I feel guilty, I suppose.”

“Because you betrayed her to save your friend?”

“Yeah. And now she’s…she’s… And it’s all my fault!”

“Ty Lee!” Niu squeezed her tightly and rocked her back and forth. “It’s not your fault. Azula used you. She burned too brightly, and eventually, she just…burned herself out. She manipulated you _and_ Mai, and she didn’t show mercy to anyone else, either.” Unconsciously, she took one hand from the younger warrior to touch a small scar on her arm, a relic of the fight that led to her imprisonment.

Ty Lee closed her eyes and remembered. She remembered watching Azula Firebend, all strength and power, so hard and so, so beautiful, sapphire blue fire, the flowers on her dressing-table she had tried so hard not to read too much into; but then she remembered other things: the time Azula had set fire to the tail of her plait because it amused her so to see Ty Lee hopping about and screaming, the time Azula had tricked her into climbing down a cliffside, each step a terrifying leap of faith, Azula and Mai about to duel, the princess bearing down on the older girl, all fire and fury, that final, desperate lunge to save her friend. Did she truly want that back in her life?

 _Azula’s different now,_ said a voice in her head. _She needs help. You can give her help._

 _She can get help from professionals,_ replied a different voice. _She doesn’t need you._

Perhaps Azula was fine where she was. Perhaps writing her a letter would only stir up the bitterness left over in Azula from the Boiling Rock fiasco. Yes. Get on with her life and hope Azula’s improved. That was the best way forward.

“You’re right, Niu,” Ty Lee said into the older warrior’s chest. “I’ll forget Azula. I’m with you warriors now.” She sighed and swallowed down fresh tears.

“It’ll hurt, I know,” Niu replied soothingly. “But in time, it will feel better.”

Ty Lee managed a wider smile this time. “Thanks, Niu.” When she went back to bed, she slept almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

The following afternoon, however, she came to a decision. She went back inside to her writing-desk, and when the little ship carrying deliveries and post left the island, it carried with it a very precious letter, tied with a pretty, green ribbon.

* * *

Mai adjusted her clothes for the fiftieth time, straightened her hair, and tried to quell the urge to vomit.

Needless to state, Mai was not feeling well this morning. She and Zuko had elected to celebrate Mai’s last night of freedom before her parents’ return by breaking into a bottle (or two) of the finest baijiu the Fire Nation had to offer, and getting drunk off their heads. Zuko had never drunk before, save the cup of sake he and Mai had shared without Azula’s knowledge at Chan’s party, and so he was innocent of the knowledge not only of his limits, but also of what a hangover was. Mai had only been drunk on one prior occasion, and the lecture she had received the following morning stood out so strongly in her mind that she had forgotten it had penetrated through a skull-splitting headache. So here she was, standing on her own front steps waiting to greet her family, complete with hangover, stiffness all over (exactly what position had she fallen asleep in, she wondered) and an aching bruise on her upper thigh. (She had a vague memory of crashing full force into a side table, and thought rather disgustedly that she deserved all she got for that.)

Eventually, the dragon-horse-drawn cart rumbled into view, and out of it climbed her family: Ukano, Michi, and little Tomohiro in her arms. Standing together, the politician, his wife, and their little son, they were the very picture of propriety. It was somewhat of a shame that the hungover daughter ruined the picture.

Michi reached her daughter first and looked her critically up and down. “You look terrible,” was her abrupt evaluation. Mai’s face remained set. She did not really want to know the specifics, but she had a funny feeling (quite aside from the one caused by her headache) that she was going to get them anyway. “You’re too pale,” was the first point. “Bags under your eyes. What time did you go to bed?”

What time? Mai had no idea. The last thing she remembered, if she really thought about it, was lying back on a heap of cushions, Zuko plopping down unsteadily next to her, but she hadn’t really been checking the candle at the time. “I’m not sure.” The truth. “Between nine and ten.” A blatant lie. It had gone half past ten when they broke open the second bottle, on the grounds that both of them felt very anti-climactically sober.

Michi bought the lie and nodded. “Perhaps you should get yourself a sleeping potion.”

“I’ll do that.” Mai’s face did not change.

“Good. And _please_ put a dress on – that all-in-one garment is so unladylike – and you’d better not be hiding a single knife in there!”

Mai smiled inwardly. Technically, she _didn’t_ have a _single_ knife about her person – she had eighty-six of them (at the last count). It didn’t make her feel any less hungover or persistently sore, though.

Michi’s eyes passed over her immaculately-styled hair – her usual ox horns – and nodded in a satisfied manner. Then, she sniffed.

“New perfume.” Michi’s eyes, the way they narrowed, reminded her of a fox-wolf whose nose had just caught a whiff of dinner. “Orchids. _Perfume_ at fifteen – and _orchids_ , Mai! _Orchids!_ ”” Her tone suggested that Michi had taken her daughter’s choice of scent as a personal insult. “So…unfashionable! It’s so delicate, in completely the wrong way! Why, it’s almost _Earth Kingdom_!” Michi shook her head sadly. Mai elected not to tell her that the orchid perfume had been Zuko’s favourite of the scents she had shown him. She didn’t want anyone to take her for a romantic.

“Have you finished analysing me yet?” Mai asked her mother. “Can we go in?”

“Of course.” Michi led the way. “I need a cup of tea after that journey – really, _what_ a lot of stress!”

“Yes, I’m sure that sitting on a ship and in a carriage for a few hours is _very_ difficult,” Mai replied under her breath.

Ukano followed, sparing his daughter only the briefest of glances to ensure that she hadn’t grown a second head, before he headed inside, Tomohiro toddling in his wake.

“Hi, Mai!” he beamed at her. He reached his arms up to her, expecting to be lifted into an embrace, but Mai shook her head. Really, after two years, he should have learned that Big Sister didn’t give hugs as Big Sister hated his guts. Deflated, the little boy wandered inside.

Mai took a breath and followed her family into the house, her joints creaking and back aching at every step as though she were an old lady. Ouch, ouch, _ouch_. No more passing out drunk for her. Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, the usually short walk to the morning room ended and Mai collapsed with great relief onto a sofa, acutely aware of her every movement, paranoid that one twitch would alert Michi to what she had been doing.

Michi ordered tea, and Mai sat up a little straighter, before her mother’s attention turned to her. Michi turned just in time to see her daughter cross her legs in an attempt to subtly stretch them out.

“Ladies do _not_ sit with their legs crossed, Mai.” Mai dutifully uncrossed them, wincing only slightly, for crossing her legs had done little to ease the ache, and allowed herself to be once more looked over. Her headache had not gone, and it shortened her temper but, as usual, she bit her tongue.

“You don’t look well,” her mother continued, with a strange note in her voice. “Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something?” She sounded oddly gentle, and Mai realised that the strange note in her voice was _concern_. She gave an inward start of surprise. When had her mother _ever_ worried about her? “Because I’d hate for little Tom-Tom to catch it, if so.”

 _Figures_ , thought Mai bitterly. “No, I’m just a little…under the weather. Tired.” She kept her face perfectly neutral. She could fantasise about throwing _little Tom-Tom_ against the wall and using him for target-practice later.

At that juncture, a servant brought the tea. Michi immediately set about supplying her son with biscuits, and the servant gave a little bow, but before she left, she said, “Miss has been over at the palace quite a bit.”

Mai sat up very straight. The servant continued. “She’ll head over most days – every day, actually, I think – in the morning, and she won’t return for ages. _We_ think—”

“Never mind what you think,” snapped Michi. “You’re here to serve tea, not give your opinion. Now, shoo.”

Chastised, the servant bowed and left. With her dealt with, Michi turned on her daughter.

“Is this true, Mai?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Mai replied, very carefully. She braced herself for the storm, but Michi gave a creepily Ty Lee-esque squeal of delight.

“Oh, _Mai_! Finally, you’re starting to appreciate your social standing! Oh, the _Fire Lord_! You lost your position with the princess, you saw that she was falling from grace, and you transferred your loyalty to her brother, who you knew was going to win the war! Oh, Mai, now you’re at the forefront of our new modern society! My daughter! Oh, I’ve taught you so well! I’ll bet he’s going to offer you a position at court! Perhaps you could even end up as _Fire Lady_! Oh, _Mai_!” Michi took her very stunned daughter into her arms and squeezed her tightly. Over her shoulder, Mai caught her father’s expression. Ukano was looking at her severely, and his brown eyes conveyed both exasperation at his wife’s over-excitement (as she began to rock Mai back and forth) and suspicion of his daughter.

 _Does he know?_ Mai wondered. She didn’t have time to weigh up the arguments for and against, however. All that rough handling had not been good for her hangover. She broke away from her mother and sat back down rather heavily. Her head pounded. Perhaps her mother said something, but she didn’t hear what it was. Her head felt as though it were filled with sand, and the morning room began to go fuzzy at the edges. Then her stomach heaved and jerked her back to consciousness. Automatically, she blurted out, “I have to go. Excuse me.” She stood up abruptly, stumbled over a small decorative table – almost as if she were still drunk, she thought later – and vomited indelicately out of the window.

* * *

Akemi headed to work, as usual, with a spring in her step. If there was one thing she loved, it was helping people, and she was certain that with the right support, Azula could recover and find it in herself to change.

 _We’ll have you back in society again soon enough, kid,_ she thought happily as she headed up to Azula’s room. Knocking, she was greeted by Azula’s usual coldness.

“Come in. Take a seat. I know by now I’m not getting rid of you.” Akemi chose to take that for a welcome and came in.

“How are you today, Azula?” she smiled kindly, sitting down opposite her patient.

Azula gave her a withering look. “The same I am every day. If you _really_ wanted to help me, you’d smuggle me out of here so that I can claim the throne back from my useless _brother_.” She spat the word out as though she did not truly believe it.

“I’m not going to smuggle you out, Azula.” It wasn’t the first time she’d asked, and Akemi was certain it wouldn’t be the last. “You can’t take the throne from your brother.” She cast about for a change of topic, and then remembered something. “Oh! You have a letter.” She pulled it from her robe and handed it over. Azula looked at it with the utmost revulsion.

“Who’s it from?”

“I don’t know.” Akemi looked at it again. “The green ribbon suggests Earth Kingdom. Perhaps it’s from your friend Ty Lee.”

That was evidently the wrong thing to say. Azula was on her feet instantly, eyes blazing with blue fire, looming over the young psychiatrist, the beautifully-rolled scroll with its lovingly-tied green ribbon burning to ashes in her hand. “Ty Lee is _not_ my friend! That _traitor_ deserted me, she and Mai were _weak_ , they caved in, Mai left me for my brother’s impulsive promises, just a stupid, stupid… They were traitors, and _that’s_ why I need to get out of here!” She looked down out of the window. She was on the eighth floor. A nine-storey drop wasn’t what she had in mind. Her face grew very dark. “I need to get my revenge. I need to _end_ their perfect little lives!”

Akemi’s smile slipped away. “Azula, you need to calm down. We’re here to support you, but if it becomes clear to us that you’re a threat to yourself or others, we will take action. Please, let us help you. With time and effort on your part, I know that your feelings of failure won’t last forever, and you can build a happy life for yourself.”

“The only way my life can be happy is if I get back to my father – that’s the Phoenix King, you know, the ruler of the world – and my throne.”

“Your father.” Akemi knew little about Ozai – only what the public knew, and that Fukui blamed him for Azula landing on their doorstep. “Tell me about him. Why do you need to get back to him?”

Azula shook her head. “To get my orders, of course. He’s always been the one giving the orders. Naturally, I was born to take orders, until I’m ready to give them. As I’m the useful child, he cares more about me than he does about Zuko. We’re going to take back the throne from my usurper of a brother. Once he’s busy ruling the world again, I’ll be Fire Lord and look after the homeland. That’s what I was born to do.” Azula’s head came up, a new resolve in her gold eyes.

Akemi wanted to contradict her, was about to tell her that she was born to do whatever she wanted to do, but the truth of Azula’s words hit her. She and her brother had been bred as fighting leopard-bulls, the best one sent out to do Ozai’s bidding and the extra one punished. Ozai was a despicable man, a horrible, evil monster, a…

 _Who is Ozai, anyway?_ thought Akemi suddenly. _If he’s the root of the problem, I’ll need to do my homework on the guy._ She steeled herself. _Perhaps a quick visit is in order._

Azula frowned. “I hope he won’t be angry at me for winding up in here – but my moment of weakness has passed – I’m stronger now, and ready to serve him and my country once more. You’ll see.”

Akemi tried to listen, but Azula’s words barely registered in her mind. _I’m going to_ prison _– to visit perhaps the most evil man still living! Come on Akemi – you can do this. You knew working as a psychiatrist would be a messy business when you started studying. It’s just one visit – come on, woman, he’s lost his bending. You know you’ll come out alive._

* * *

A couple of days after the return of Ukano and his family, Zuko decided, since he had a rare afternoon off, to pay his girlfriend a visit. Michi, convinced her daughter was ill, had kept her in her room to avoid Tomohiro catching what Mai privately referred to as “the mysterious hangover disease”, and so Zuko had not seen her for some time. Both Michi and Ukano were out, the latter making political connections to ready himself for the new world and his wife simply sipping tea and discussing the latest fashions. She was probably, Zuko thought, also showing off her charming little two-year-old (completely ignoring, he added bitterly, the existence of her daughter, the prize piece of the family, almost like some dark, ethereal spirit in her beauty and grace, an almost overwhelming mixture of heady scents and dark, dark hair against pale, pale skin…)

Thinking now about her beauty, Zuko headed up the front steps and took out the key that Mai had given him. Sending up a silent prayer that her mother wasn’t home, Zuko opened the door.

The first thing he heard was a loud “NO!” and just had time to jump before a small, pink blob ran straight past him, through the open front door and into the street.

“Tomohiro!” His girlfriend’s usual drawl was raised in an agonised shout, and she appeared a second later at the front door, unusually flustered. Her gaze followed his to the blob on the path, which turned out, upon closer inspection, to be a two-year-old. A two-year-old carrying an open ink bottle which dripped over his hand and onto the white stone path.

“You let him out!” she almost gasped.

“Why is he…?” Zuko wasn’t even sure he wanted to know.

“He decided he wanted to play with it. Toddlers are always getting attached to weird things.” Mai paused for just a second, then cried “Come on! Let’s catch him before he drinks the stuff.”

Tomohiro had just reached the front gate. “He’s a two-year-old. A couple of warriors like us should be more than a match for him,” Zuko reassured her.

The look Mai gave him radiated pure pity.

What Zuko discovered was that toddlers could be surprisingly _fast_. It took him no time at all to get up the path, but by that time, Tomohiro was halfway to the corner between two houses. Zuko and Mai gave chase, but he seemed to vanish for a second, reappearing halfway down an alleyway. Zuko followed, assuming his girlfriend was right behind him, and flinched as Tomohiro ran right out in front of a cart. Zuko stopped to let the cart pass, but these few valuable seconds caused him to lose sight of Tomohiro. He cast about wildly, and eventually spotted the little boy running further into the most dangerous part of the capital.

Bolting right after him, Zuko was immersed instantly in the world of his banishment: the gambling houses and taverns common to the sea villages his crew had insisted on stopping in. He saw a couple of vicious-looking men stop their squabbling and jump apart to let something small through. Zuko made a beeline for them, and promptly got a sword to the throat.

“You look pretty well off, my _friend_. Care to lend some funds?” A fireball aimed in his general direction soon put him off, and the chink of metal told him that Mai hadn’t taken that chance. They kept running, past a couple of women who eyed him with interest. Zuko was careful not to take his eyes off them. He knew a pickpocket when he saw one.

“The sooner your brother gets out of this place, the better!” he shouted back over his shoulder.

Past the pickpockets now, Zuko felt better, but then, to his horror, he saw Tomohiro vanishing into the nearest building – which turned out to be an inn. He dashed in without thought and saw the little boy being cooed over by two young and very giggly women, who ruffled the little hair he had and took turns squeezing him affectionately. Zuko dashed towards them, but found himself face to face with the woman in charge.

“Hello, young man,” she smiled. “Is this your son? Do you need a drink? Normally we don’t serve anyone during the day, but I’m not one to turn down paying customers.”

“ _No thank you!_ ” replied Zuko firmly. The woman had spoken very loudly and he felt slightly attacked. He had a feeling she was going to pull out all the stops to sell to him. “And he’s not my son. I’m sixteen.” Spirits, did he really look old enough to be a father? Well, at least it would make people take him more seriously as a ruler.

“Oh, _sixteen_ , are you?” The woman laughed. “Sneaking away from the parents are we? Well, I won’t tell if you don’t!”

Zuko thought his brain had completely stopped working. Did people really think someone would bring a toddler when they’d gone drinking? At least that kind of attitude to child safety explained why _none of them had thought to take the ink bottle away from him_! The ink was all over his trousers now, and he was painting circular patterns on his stomach with it. It was very fortunate, thought Zuko, that Mai chose that moment to come dashing in, panting, just in time to hear the beginnings of Zuko’s stumbling reply.

“Thank you for offering, but I won’t be needing any—”

“Zuko, come _on_!” Mai helped him out hugely by grabbing him by the back of the collar and dragging him a safe distance from the proprietor. “We’ll just take the boy, thank you.”

The woman sighed. At least she looked like letting up now. “Oh, very well. Ami?” One of the giggly girls echoed her employer’s sigh and brought Tomohiro over. As he was placed in Mai’s arms, she turned to the woman in charge.

“I really don’t think you should be letting kids in here. Wouldn’t want your business shut down, would you?” She rolled her eyes at Zuko and handed Tomohiro over.

Tomohiro, however, wasn’t having any. “NO!” He slid down in Zuko’s arms and kicked him right between the legs.

“AARGH!” Without even thinking, Zuko dropped the little boy like a hot potato and Tomohiro made a dash for the door.

“WON’T GO HOME!”

Zuko bolted after him, Mai in his wake, and was relieved to see Tomohiro’s flight taking him to a less treacherous part of the capital. He was heading for a marketplace that Zuko had often frequented with his mother, which sold goods aimed at the upper classes.

If chasing him in the open streets was difficult, it was nothing compared to chasing him through the marketplace. The three dived this way and that, innocent shoppers having to dodge a small boy, only to be then shoved, politely but still very firmly, out of the way by two teenagers. Tomohiro dived under a jewellery stall, but then caught sight of the colourful oranges decorating the side of a fruit stand. He made a final sprint, his sister and her ever-loyal boyfriend in hot pursuit, but then, scared by the face of the severe-looking stallholder, changed direction at the final second.

The result was that Zuko found himself unable to stop in time and ploughed into the fruit stand. Wood, awning, and fruit scattered across the neatly-swept street, and Zuko found himself sitting in the wreckage, thoroughly bruised as the collapsing structure prevented him from falling properly, covered in juice with splinters in his hair. Mai did not stop to help him but instead ran straight past, cornering her little brother under the nearest stall with an unusually vehement cry of “ _There_ you are, you little shit!” Zuko was too busy trying to smooth things over with the stallholder to care that she had just sworn at a two-year-old.

Once Zuko had promised the old woman that he would replace everything, Mai came over to him. “Are you OK? Sorry I couldn’t stop to help, but I couldn’t let the little horror get away again.”

Zuko gave her a very sticky hug, and Mai pulled away and inspected her clothes with an expression of slight disgust. As a sort of consolation, Zuko reached out and took Tomohiro from her, settling him into one arm so that they could try and pry the now-empty ink bottle from the toddler’s protesting hand. This proved difficult, as Tomohiro kept waving the bottle as far away from them as he could, and kept almost slipping out of Zuko’s hold. “Come on, kid. You’re coming with us, before your sister dumps me.”

Mai smiled almost tenderly at him. “I would never–”

Tomohiro smacked Zuko in the face with the ink bottle, sending the residual ink splattering over his face.

“Ouch!” was his first instinct, and Mai’s was a simultaneous:

“Oh, _Tomohiro_!”

Zuko stared down at the two of them. They were both covered in ink, and he was certain he couldn’t present the kid to his parents like this. He offered his burden to Mai, who shook her head firmly. Zuko took the situation in hand. “Come on, Tomohiro. How would you like to see what the inside of the _royal palace_ looks like?” Tomohiro squealed in delight. “Because you and I both need baths, kid. I’ll go take mine, and your sister can bath you.”

“Wow, thanks for volunteering me,” Mai muttered darkly.

“I don’t know how to wash a kid!” Zuko whispered vehemently back.

“It’s _fine_ ; I don’t really mind,” Mai sighed. “Come on. Let’s go.” She rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her waist, the other still holding Tomohiro, and the three of them headed back to the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Leave a review, leave a favourite, leave a fruit tart, and see you in the next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, nice gentle opening. A bit more will happen in the next update. Do let me know, however, if I do too much telling instead of showing. So, leave a review, leave a favourite, leave a fruit tart, and see you in the next chapter.


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